


Homemade Soup

by ami_ven



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Community: comment_fic, Established Relationship, M/M, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-01 11:08:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20814134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ami_ven/pseuds/ami_ven
Summary: Teyla has a cold, so John and Rodney help Torren make her some soup.





	Homemade Soup

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this prompt](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/264720.html?thread=51574032#t51574032) at LJ community "comment_fic"

Despite their advances since coming to Atlantis, Earth doctors still hadn't figured out how to cure the common cold.

"She's going to be okay, isn't she?" asked five-year-old Torren, standing nervously at the foot of his mother's bed.

"Of course she is," said Rodney, watching as John and Ronon fussed around Teyla with blankets and extra pillows. "Your mom is only sicker than the rest of us were because this is an Earth virus, and she didn't have a childhood in disease-ridden educational institutes to build up an immunity— or a complete lack of hygiene."

"Real funny, McKay," muttered Ronon.

But mostly, McKay was right. Nearly everyone on Atlantis had gotten the cold, to varying degrees, but Teyla was definitely sicker than anyone else. 

"I wish to rest!" snapped Teyla suddenly, smacking one hand at John, who was closer.

"Ow!" he said, but moved away from the bed. "Okay, we're going. C'mon, Torren, let's keep out of your mom's hair."

"I'll stay, in case she needs something," offered Ronon.

"Yes, yes, good," said Rodney quickly— they all knew he'd stay if Teyla asked him, but he generally didn't like being around sick people.

"But she _is_ gonna be okay, right, Uncle Rodney?" asked Torren, grabbing his hand.

"What did I just say? Of course she is, as long as she gets plenty of rest."

John took Torren's other hand. "But I know something we could do to help."

"What?" the boy demanded.

"Well, when I'm sick, there's nothing that makes me feel better than a nice bowl of chicken soup."

Rodney snorted. "We ran out of those Lipton packets last week."

"Then we'll _make_ some soup," said John.

"We don't have any chicken," the scientist protested.

"We have some of those bird-things from M2X-994, they're kind of like chicken. And we can use the vegetables from that planet with the orange grass instead of carrots—"

"They're red, Sheppard."

John shrugged. "Close enough. C'mon, Rodney, don't be a killjoy."

"Yeah, Uncle Rodney," added Torren, who predictably, always took John's side.

"All right," he relented.

“That’s the spirit,” said John.

With Torren’s puppy-dog eyes to help, it was almost too easy for John to charm the ingredients they needed from Atlantis’s cooks. Rodney helped them line everything up on the countertop of their kitchen, then frowned. 

“Do you even know how to make soup?”

“I have a recipe,” said John. “It can’t be too hard.”

“Give me that,” Rodney snapped, and ignored the way John grinned smugly at him as he started to read.

It actually wasn’t that hard, once they got started. Torren was fascinated by the whole process, which made it more enjoyable for everyone – he listened intently as Rodney explained the recipe, stuck out his little tongue as John carefully showed him how to chop the vegetables, made faces when John leaned over him to steal kisses from Rodney as they worked, and watched excitedly until Rodney proclaimed the soup ready.

“We made you soup!” Torren exclaimed, the moment they’d gotten back to Teyla’s quarters.

She sat up, smiling. “That was very thoughtful. Thank you.”

“Anytime,” said Rodney – and meant it.

THE END


End file.
